


Dead Rabbits Make Bad Pets

by 3levetoi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Protective Arthur, Rough Sex, Smut, gangs of new york - Freeform, no magic, similar to peaky blinders, the one without homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22961578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3levetoi/pseuds/3levetoi
Summary: Arthur Pendragon is next in line to be the leader of the menacing gang called the Bowery Boys. Unfortunately, his reign falls onto bad stars with tensions rising between the Boys and their rival gang The Dead Rabbits.His suspicions only strengthen when their clubhouse has a new face behind the bar at the height of the turmoil. It doesn’t help that people always seem to confide in the bartender.Can he bear the burden to persecute this new boy, or does fate have something else planned for the two?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 170





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I pictured Merlin with the hair and style that Colin Morgan did in "The Living and the Dead," and Arthur sort of like Eddie Redmayne's character, Marius, in Les Miserables.
> 
> For reference~

He opened the doors of the bar and all talk quieted. All eyes went to the entrance and then retreated to resume a stiff conversation. 

He had a sort of calm and calculating air about him, and it tended to make people nervous. Always watching and never speaking equiates some sort of malefic god to those who can’t read. 

“What can I get you, Mr. Pendragon?” The old bartender stood firmly, washing out a glass. He didn’t look up. The old bat was strong, but he knew his place.

Afterall, who _wasn’t_ afraid of Arthur Pendragon?

“Whiskey, Gaius.” Arthur replied lighting a cigarette. 

The Green Dragon was dimly lit, but had windows lining one of the sides bathing the room in sunlight during the day, and plaguing it at night. It all had a musty smell to it. As though it’s glory days had been filled to the brim with beer and sweat, and had since grown stale.

He took a long puff, and tapped it into an ashtray.

Gaius set the glass on the counter. 

“On the house.”

Arthur mumbled a low “thank you,” and discreetly put two coins on the counter anyway. He knocked back half of the glass in one gulp and didn’t even flinch at the taste.

“Careful, Arthur. Try not to drown yourself,” a beautiful woman graced his shoulder, “Father is waiting for us and you know he can smell it on you.” 

Arthur looked at her unamused. 

He hadn’t heard her come in. Generally, these dogs would whistle and holler at the sight of any woman in this place, let alone someone like Morgana. If it hadn’t been for her last name or the fact that she showed a knife to the throat of the last man that cooed at her, perhaps it would be different. She was charitably nicknamed “Hell-Cat Maggie”.

She was pale and beautiful. If they were wealthy, she likely would have been married off to a prince by now. Morgana had the piercing eyes of a Pendragon but not the blood. Uther took her in as a child against his better judgement, and had been rewarded handsomely with her loyalty to the family business. She was one of those sickly children who fell asleep under a streetlamp one winter night in New York and Uther couldn’t find it in his heart to leave her there, despite the fact that he had hardly the space as it was. The family business hadn’t exactly taken off during the reign of Uther’s brother who was never in a sober state, so Uther happily assumed his place as head of their motor distribution company. 

There was nothing Morgana wanted more than to be his successor, but she didn’t hold an ounce of contempt for Arthur, who was undeniably next in line for the throne.

“Morgana, sometimes I think to drown would be a mercy.” He said with a glimmer of ironic amusement and finished his drink. 

“Don’t speak like that,” she smacked him on the upside the head. The two went into the back room which is where most of the business was conducted. If it were possible, this room had an even bleaker atmosphere than the one they just stepped out of.

The dark wooden walls were thick so that no sound could escape them and there was only a small window of frosted glass to illuminate the space. It was big enough to comfortably sit about ten people around the circular table in the center.

They got situated and before too long, the door swung open, the Atlantic Guards consisting of Gwaine and two of his men, rowdy as ever, flew in, giving some life to this miserable place. They all found seats where they could. Gwaine comfortably reclined with his dust covered boots up on the table. 

“Lovely to see you, Arthur,” he said tipping his ridiculous tall brim hat, then to Morgana, “Ma’am.”

“What is that absurd thing on your head?” Morgana laughed.

“Oh, D’you like it, Maggie? I won it in a fight, or- he left it for me after I cracked his head all over Bayard Street. I figure I’ll use it to run my chances against ol’ Buchanan this November. What do you think?” 

“Well you have my vote!” Percy joked. 

The boys snickered but Arthur didn’t laugh. The door opened again, bringing the last member to the circle. Uther, in his usual grievous manner, set down a box in the center. 

Gwaine removed his feet. 

The box was filthy and the oder that wafted and filled the room was putrid before he even opened it. Percy gagged and Morgana covered her nose with a scarf.

“Guess who.” Uther stated angrily. He ripped out a dead rabbit by what was left of the feet. Some of the entrails spilled back into it’s coffin with a wet _plop_.

“Oh my _god!_ ” Morgana gasped.

Uther dropped it back into the box, “What else would you expect from mongrels? This little gift was left for us in the middle of The Bowery, surrounded by our shredded archives and empty vault.”

Although he might use different terms, Uther was the senior gang leader of the Bowery Boys. The Bowery, (unoriginally named,) was their haunt, their bunker, club, whatever you wanted to call it. It was theirs and it’s where they conducted business. 

After all, the home team always takes an advantage.

However, hard times like these required extra hands, and the Atlantic Guards were thrilled to help. Especially when they had an enemy in common.

The Dead Rabbits, a vicious pack of proud Irishmen, seemed always at the throat of Uther’s family. What's worse is that they settled themselves on Mulberry Street, which was just a few short blocks from the Bowery Boys’ territory.

Gwaine slammed his fist on the table, “Fucking Cenred, they can’t make fools of us like this!”

“We have to teach them a lesson!” Percy interjected.

“Enough!” Uther yelled. 

Arthur sat back and watched this unfold.

_He was always hot headed,_ he thought. _That’s why Gwaine’s father heads the business._

Arthur did not share his father’s hatred of Irish immigrants. Or any immigrants for that matter. Had he been born four hundred years earlier, he too would have been a stranger in a strange land. 

What he did hate, however, were those who did not seem to understand any sort of respect for the basic order of things.

One had to respect community.

Arthur didn’t remember how this whole thing with the Dead Rabbits and the Bowery Boys started, but he knew it was completely inappropriate to stumble already drunk into someone else’s bar and start a brawl. 

On the way out Uther grabbed Arthur by the sleeve and growled, “Made a stop by the bar on your way in, didn’t you?” 

Arthur pulled away, “Yeah, thought I’d need it to endure that fucking show.”

Uther sighed.

“Do you really think it’s wise to retaliate with such a brute attack? We have to hit them where it hurts.” 

Uther thought for a moment, “What do you suggest, then?”

“I suggest that we pay off the bulls, take out some of their importants and when they come crying back with bats, be ready. If we anticipate an attack, we can prepare for it.” 

Arthur looked at him. He’d been preparing a plan since he sat down. 

“Gwaine can’t head the raid, he’s a ruffian without a brain.” 

Uther was impressed with his insight.

“I’ll take it under consideration.” 

Arthur, in his twenty years, had become well acquainted with battle strategy. Whether learning from his father, or watching the world unfold around him, he had a head for it. Every footstep was deliberate and every word was premeditated.

There was no preformed action that didn’t cross his mind first. He held himself tightly and revealed his cards to no one. 

  
  
_________________

It was early morning. Merlin pushed the doors open to the Green Dragon. Sunlight was starting to stream through the windows. Gaius sweeping the floor looked up briefly, then returned to his work.

“You’re a bit late for a drink. Come back later.”

“Oh no, I’m not here for a drink.” The old man looked up confused.

“I’m here to ask about employment? I saw your ad in the paper.”

The man looked him over, “you in any packs?”

“What?”

“Do you know who runs this establishment?”

“I just want a job. I’m not in any of that. My name’s Merlin.”

Gaius sighed, “bit scrawny aren’t you? Are you sure you can handle these guys?”

Merlin swallowed, unsure of what he was being asked.

“You can’t handle it, they’d have you finished in two minutes flat,” Gaius turned to leave.

“No! I’ll prove it to you! I have loads of experience. I’ll - I’ll work a shift for free.” 

Gaius raised his eyebrow and turned to resume his work. 

“Come back at eight.”

  
  
_________________

A few days later, Arthur found himself again at the Green Dragon, but this time the mood was high spirited. Percy had just gotten engaged to be wed, so naturally Gwaine wanted to drink so much that he wouldn’t remember it.

Arthur and Morgana entered together arm in arm. There were a lot of people crowded in the small bar. Everyone was laughing and talking; it was all merry. 

“Hey! There they are!” Gwaine shouted over the crowd, “Arthur, couldn’t find a woman to bring that wasn’t your sister?” 

“No, I mucked up your mother earlier, but she said she was busy tonight.”

The boys erupted with laughter. Gwaine put his hand on his heart feigning pain, and then clapped Arthur on the back, perhaps a little harder than expected.

“Good one! Let me buy you a drink before I kill you in your sleep tonight!” 

It was all in good fun.

They went to the bar. 

“Two Vodkas, barkeep. So, Goldenboy, when are you going to find yourself a woman?”

Arthur smiled and was about to answer when he was met by a new face. He had never seen the man behind the counter before. _Strange._ The man was tall and skinny. He looked like he’d probably snap like a twig if pushed too hard. 

He was pale even in the yellow light but his eyes were brighter than anything. 

_He wasn’t from around here._

The man placed two glasses in front of them with a quick smile, but before he could ask for money Arthur chipped in, “Excuse me, have we met?” 

The man looked at him for a second. “I don’t believe we have. I’m Merlin,” he tried to call over the noise, “I just started here.”

“So we haven’t met.” Gwaine tried to tug Arthur away, but he stood his ground, “Where you from, Merlin?”

“Queens.”

“Queens.” Arthur echoed, utterly intrigued.

 _How perfect,_ he thought, _for a new face at the center of a room filled with our people._

Arthur felt for the pistol on his belt and the knife in his pocket. He pulled out a coin and flipped it onto the counter as he let Gwaine whisk him away.

A bit later, he inquired to Gaius about him, who was under no sort of suspicion. In fact, he almost glowed with admiration about the boy’s talent. “A real comeuppance” were his exact words. Apparently, the bar had been a hotspot after his employment. 

Merlin did not blow up the Green Dragon that night, but that’s not to say that Arthur didn’t keep a watchful eye on the boy. 

He couldn’t have been much older than him, yet they were unalike in almost every way. Apart from physical appearances, Merlin was clumsy and goofy and completely under qualified to deal with the bar’s upper management. 

But there was something intriguing about him. He seemed deeper than he let on. This scared Arthur. 

  
  


A few days before the planned attack on the Dead Rabbits, Arthur found himself strolling down the lane. 

He was frustrated that he wasn’t being heard, despite his prediction of the outcome. What he needed was a drink.

It was raining cats and dogs and when Arthur pounded on the door. Merlin unlocked the door for him. 

“Sorry, we’re closed for the day, Mr. Pendragon.” 

The chairs were placed upside down on the tables. Arthur draped his damp coat and hat across one of them. 

“Just get me a drink.” He sighed running fingers through his wet hair. 

Merlin pulled out a glass and the bottle of whiskey that Gaius told him was specifically reserved for Arthur Pendragon. He had also informed Merlin that any drink of his was on the house. 

Merlin started to pour the glass when Arthur sauntered around to the back of the counter, nearly shoving him out of the way. 

“Shall I leave you alone?” Merlin offered quietly.

Arthur said nothing and brought out a second glass. He then handed Merlin the first. They were so close. Merlin felt his heat race. 

He then poured himself a drink and watched Merlin wince as it went down. 

Arthur scoffed. 

“Where’s Gaius?”

“He’s letting me close up.”

Arthur pulled a cigarette and a matchbox from his pocket.

Before he could stop himself, Merlin blurted, “Why is it you get free drinks and everyone else has to pay?” 

Arthur’s amused expression faded. He had not expected such insubordination from someone so insignificant. Arthur was vaguely impressed and ten times more mistrustful. He pulled the unlit cigarette from his lips and Merlin saw coarseness in his eyes. 

“D’you know who I am, Merlin?” 

He thought for a second, trying not to touch on anything to rough.

“You’re Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther.” 

“Yes. And do you know what I do?” 

Merlin was quiet. Arthur took a drag and blew pointed smoke past his lips.

Taking his silence as the answer, he continued, “I discover men who wish to do me harm, and have them killed.” Arthur stared at him with a menacing sort of indifference, just to see how Merlin would react.

Merlin could not break away. 

They looked at each other for a second. He was trying to decide how serious Arthur was being given the somewhat serious air.

Arthur put the stick between his teeth and filled their glasses again. He took it out again and exhaled before taking a sip.

“That’s not very brave of you.” Merlin whispered. 

Arthur let out a surprised laugh, “No it’s not, is it.” 

Merlin smiled and drank, “God, how can you stand drinking this.”

“You get used to it.” 

Merlin seemed to be the opposite of threatening, which might just be an ingenius strategy itself, but Arthur didn’t get the sense that Merlin meant him harm. 

Although, now that he thought about it, there was something behind Merlin’s eyes that was unnerving. Maybe he had underestimated him. Maybe there was a whole plot unfurling under his nose. If Merlin had anything to be revealed, Arthur would have to do a lot more than get him drunk in private. 

_It’s a shame to ruin such a pretty face,_ he thought.

And he was - pretty, that is. Merlin radiated youth. His dark hair was long enough to touch his ears, and if he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a week. He had a strong chin and prominent cheekbones, but it all turned boyish when he smiled and his eyes crinkled around the edges. 

He was easy to look at, and there were many who thought him charming. 

  
_________________

  
  


He sat on the very edge of a cold wooden bench somewhere in Central park. His watch told him he was early, which was a relief considering he had to fly across town to get there. An older man in a wide brim hat sat on the other side of the bench. The man didn’t speak, instead he unfolded a newspaper. He couldn’t see his face but he knew who he was. It was one of the men of Cenred who fronted the Dead Rabbits. 

“It’s not Uther who writes the plans, it’s his son, Arthur. But the Atlantic Guards are the muscle and it seems like they often fly off the handle.” He said quietly, not looking at the man.

“You’ve done good work, Merlin. Yer father would be proud. Tell me, from what you’ve seen would you believe it that Uther is fading?” the hat asked.

“No, he’s well. If you wanted to hurt ‘em, I’d hit the guard so their retaliation is weak-”

“You’re an informer, not a fucking war strategist,” The man snarled.

Merlin sat quietly.

“How does Arthur seem?”

“He’s strong, and clever. He’s not so easily wounded.” 

“Has he found trust in you?”

“No,” Merlin thought, “he’s cautious.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, before the man folded his paper and left it behind. 

Merlin took the paper and left. 

He was tying his apron around his waist when Arthur and his sister walked in. It was early afternoon, and they hadn’t opened yet, but there was always an exception for the Pendragons. Gaius was out doing some inventory.

Arthur stopped and lit a cigarette. He drew it from his mouth, exhaling clouds. 

He looked over Merlin and raised his eyebrow. 

“It’s a good look on you, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed, “beer and spit is always in fashion, that’s what they tell me.” 

Arthur put his head down to hide his amusement, and strolled to the back. 

Morgana climbed onto a bar stool.

“Rum, please Merlin.”

Merlin poured her a glass.

“A bit early for rum don’t you think?” 

Morgana smiled, “Morning to most people may be the end of a late night to another.” 

“Right you are…” Merlin said putting himself to work. The whole family had a way of asserting themselves despite the situation. She took a long sip from her glass.

“I’m only here because I can’t touch the books.” 

“What d’you mean?”

“Arthur doesn’t want me near the finances.”

“Why’s that?”

She looked at him for a second, “He’s worried, I suppose. I have no head for it either, once he let me balance the budget and by the end of the month, three-hundred dollars were missing.” 

Merlin chuckled.

“I’d rather be here with you anyways.” She took a drag.

“He runs a tight ship doesn’t he.” 

“Mhm,” she was somewhere else, “it’s easy when you haven’t a friend nor a woman.”

“I don’t believe that. Friends maybe, but girls must be all over him.”

“They are, but he takes no interest.”

“In women?”

“Well, I shouldn’t say it like that,” she said swirling the rest of her drink, “he’s had his flings, but I think he detaches himself. It’s pretty scary to put all your faith in someone with so much at stake.” She looked at him while finishing her drink. 

He gulped.

Just then they heard a loud “ _fuck!_ ” from the other room. 

“That must be him discovering the total from this month.” She smirked, eyes red and clearly intoxicated.

He poured another glass of rum and left the bottle with Morgana.

Merlin knocked on the door to the back room.

 _“What._ ”

He opened it. Arthur was hunched over the papers with a cigarette in one hand and his head in the other. Arthur looked at him.

“Thought you could use this.” Merlin said placing the glass next down next to him.

He downed the whole thing in one sip, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin offered.

“I’ve gone over this four times and I always get something new.” 

Merlin glanced over his shoulder, he traced his finger down a line of numbers and stopped a few inches from the bottom. Merlin leaned in.

They were close. 

“What’s this?” 

“That was when we got raided.”

Merlin could smell him between the aftershave and tobacco. The real Arthur. 

“Well here, I’m pretty good with numbers, I could take a look at it for you.” 

Arthur looked at him hard and then his face softened. 

“Could you do that?”

One thing that Merlin noticed about him over the last few weeks was that his body reflected his attitude. When his shoulders were stiff, Merlin knew without looking that there were hard pressed lines on his face, and eyes that glowered at some poor subject being marked for death. While if there was hint of amusement in his eyes, one side of his mouth would curve up, as much as he’d deny it, and his stance would be looser. 

His body was one mechanical system that worked unanimously. Nothing was hidden from any other part of him when he would react. 

Merlin knew that this would have taken a remarkable amount of command. 

“Sure.” 

Arthur removed himself from the chair, allowing Merlin to take his place. The blond buttoned his vest over his abdomen. He towered over Merlin’s shoulder piering down, witnessing. 

Merlin scribbled something on a scratch piece of paper, and ended with a nice round “0”.

“What did you do?” Arthur asked flatly. He moved closer to see the final results. 

“I think you added here instead of subtracted.” 

Arthur was so intensely staring at the page, Merlin couldn’t help but look at him. 

“I think you’re right.” 

He was so _ridiculously_ european looking.

Angular face, ridged nose, straight jaw. The blond hair and blue eyes combination didn’t help much either. 

They finished up and as they were leaving, Merlin felt a hand splayed on his lower back, ushering him towards the counter, as a man might do with a woman. 

His ears turned red, and the skin on his neck prickled.

_It was nothing. It meant nothing._

“Did you figure it out?” Morgana smiled.

“No, he did.” Arthur patted Merlin on the shoulder, and squeezed it a little. 

_It’s a threat._

“He must be a clever boy, then.” Morgana’s attention was back on her drink.

“Must be.” Arthur’s attention was back on Merlin.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Arthur knew. He’d always known.

He knew when he was six and little Margaret who lived down the street and always smelled like cabbage kissed him and his body viscerally pushed her away. He remembered opening his eyes again and the feeling of his eyebrows scrunch in confusion and little Margaret on the ground crying. 

He thought there was something wrong with him. All his friends were bragging about catching their mother’s friends while dressing, and Arthur never bothered to look.

He knew when he was thirteen and half drunk in a jazz club. He stumbled into the mens’ room and there were fingers curled around the top of the wooden doors on one of the stalls and deep pounding grunts. He stood and listened, dumbstruck, as all his blood rushed south. 

And he _definitely_ knew when he was fifteen and he caught his father’s errand boy looking his way a little too long at a party. The kid was a year and a half older than him but that didn’t really matter when he looked like that with his lips happily wrapped around Arthur’s cock in the backroom of his father’s bar.

He cherished memories like these and thought back on them fondly, but he knew love like this wasn’t in store for him; not if he wanted to do his duty to his father. 

Arthur contented himself with an occasional man in the clubs or in a bar. Sometimes he could even make it with a woman who was particularly shapeless, but nothing ever developed beyond a one night stand.

It all felt clinical to him. He did it to feed his body, not his mind. He didn’t need distraction from his work, he just needed relief.

He kept that part of his life to himself. It wasn’t important. 

  
  


It was May of 1857, and there was no escaping the heat that felt as though the sun was pouring through a microscope aimed directly at the city. The streets were baking and the stench of the putrid sewer wafted unkindly into every store and corner, sparing absolutely nothing.

The nights seemed somehow worse, and this night was no different. Every window and door of the Green Dragon were propped open in the futile hope to alleviate the heat. Merlin was at the bar, as had become usual. 

He had his sleeves rolled up to his forearms and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. He was clearing the counter when a boy no older than seventeen rushed himself through the door way, out of breath, and hurried over to the table where Arthur was reading his newspaper.

He whispered something to the blond who then stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back and motioned for a few other men to follow. Merlin cleared their glasses. Some of the patrons looked around with worry. No more than a half hour later, Gwaine barged in with a group of men behind him. 

“Everybody, get the hell out if you want to live to see the sunrise!” he growled.

Percy had one of Uther’s arms draped his shoulder, and Arthur was supporting the other. His face was that of intense rage. Uther was falling in and out of consciousness and could hardly stand on his own. 

“Get me a table,” Arthur ordered.

Merlin shoved some tables together. He couldn’t tell where exactly the wound was, there was so much blood. 

Uther groaned. 

“Merlin, vodka.” Arthur barked, hardly looking at him. Merlin hardly registered in the madness, that he heard his name. He left him the bottle. Arthur grabbed it and poured some into the wound. Uther hissed. 

The blond had the forceps deep into his father’s chest cavity when Morgana arrived. 

“Arthur, there’s too much blood.” Leon stated, trying to dab some of it away.

“What’s happened!” Morgana shrieked. 

“They shot him.” 

Arthur said nothing. There was nothing else. It was only him and his dying father and everything else was unnecessary. 

Merlin brought them some bar towels, and various first aid items he kept behind the bar. 

“Go home, Merlin.” Arthur snapped.

“Let me hel-” 

“Go home!”

Merlin couldn’t do anything else. He left. 

He got home and his shabby apartment felt emptier than usual. Somehow the small loveseat, which was the only place to sit in the whole room, was less occupied than it should’ve been. His business that night felt unfinished and he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he tried. Merlin lit a fire in his small hearth and poured himself a drink. 

He felt useless. 

Then he felt regret. 

All he wanted from Uther is to feel the pain he felt as a child. Merlin’s father, an Irishman, was personally persecuted and butchered like the rest of them. They were massacred for nothing other than existing.

Merlin knew hatred and he knew grief. He watched his mother slowly kill herself infront of him, slaving away to support them until she was nothing but skin and bone. He knew what it felt like to feel utterly useless as he could do nothing for her. 

He was alone in the world. He carried this grief in his heart until it pumped and churned his blood into something far more sinister. 

Two months ago Merlin wanted to destroy Uther and his family as Uther had done to Merlin. Now that he had succeeded, he felt nothing but a shapeless malaise. 

He hadn’t ordered the attack, he hadn’t even suggested it, yet he was the catalyst.

He was to blame, and Arthur would be orphaned. 

Merlin stared into the fire. How could he have done this? Had he really worked all his life to become this malicious prosecutor? No better than Uther himself?

He threw his half finished glass into the fire, making the flames burst in consumption. 

The bell on his door rang. 

It was nearly three in the morning. 

Merlin steadily turned the knob and opened it. 

It was Arthur. 

_Of course, it had to be him to seal my fate._

Merlin opened the door to him. Arthur stood there, looking at nothing. He had a vague amorphous look of horror and sadness. It was like he didn’t know how he got there or what he was doing there. More emotion splattered across his face now than Merlin had ever seen there before. 

Oh god, how there was blood. It was all up his sleeves and down the front of his shirt and vest. 

The clothes could be replaced, but this was the kind of blood that never really washed out. Not _totally_.

“Arthur, I-”

Arthur waved his hand to stop his talk.

“Just get me a drink,” he whispered.

Merlin blinked.

Arthur sat on the old couch and lit a cigarette. His hands shook. He rubbed his eyes. He was tired. 

“I’ll pour you one if you go wash yourself.” 

Merlin left and came back with a fresh shirt and a towel.

Arthur didn’t move.

“Bathrooms just down the hall on the left...” 

After a minute he put out his cigarette and went to the bathroom. 

An hour later he returned to the living room. His wet blond hair stuck out every which way, and the shirt was a bit tight across his broad chest, but he looked like he retained a bit more composure. 

Merlin had never seen him so bare. 

Color was starting to come back to his face. 

He knocked back the glass, and poured himself another. Merlin watched.

Arthur sat himself on the couch. 

“Sit down.” Arthur commanded. 

Merlin’s heart was racing. 

“If you want to talk about-” 

“I don’t.” 

Arthur looked at him for a minute with no expression on his face. 

Merlin hated this. He _hated_ what he’d done. He wished he could take it all back. He felt the guilt rise in the back of his throat.

“Arthur, I know you’re mourning, but you need to talk to someone.” Merlin whispered, “I can’t see you like this anymore.”

Arthur let out a long line of smoke and put out his cigarette.

He leaned in close and exhaled again. 

“So do something about it,” he said firmly, eyebrow raised like he was waiting for an obvious answer. 

Merlin bit his lip. Arthur watched. It was the same lip that he had spent way more time thinking about than he’d care to admit.

Arthur didn’t have to go far to taste it. It was just a taste. Arthur loved the flavor of liquor on someone else’s tongue. He loved the scruff of Merlin’s face that brushed his skin every time he moved. 

He wrapped his hand around the nape of Merlin’s neck, and pushed all of his ailment into kissing Merlin. Everything, just Merlin. 

He didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

Merlin broke away. He didn’t smile. He watched Arthur’s face as Merlin brought a hand up to caress the clean shaven cheek. Arthur placed a hand over Merlin’s, securing it in place, and feeling his warmth.

He could not remember the last time he felt the gentle touch of another human being.

Merlin climbed on top to straddle him.

They didn’t for a second break eye contact. 

Arthur was stunning with his hair all mussed and the fire playing tricks on his face. 

Merlin lowered his hand stroking Arthur’s neck, giving him chills. His thumb pushed at his lip. Arthur’s tongue rolled over the tip of the finger as he took it into his mouth and sucked.

Merlin groaned. 

He’d never imagined seeing Arthur like this outside of his dreams. He wondered what else he could make him do. 

Merlin withdrew his finger to undo the buttons of his vest. As he shrugged off the garment, Arthur was already hard at work with the shirt underneath. He tore it open revealing a lean pale chest underneath. Arthur ran his hands down Merlin’s sides stopping at his thighs. 

_“Fuck_ ” was all the blond could mutter looking at his body. 

Merlin had always felt an undeniable attraction towards him. He knew the second he laid eyes on Arthur Pendragon. He was just _drawn_ to him. At that time though, his thirst for revenge was far stronger. 

One of these feelings now seemed to be devoured by the other.

“You look so good in my clothes,” Merlin whispered, “I think you’d look even better if you took them off.” He smiled.

“Oh god Merlin, the things you do with that mouth.” He said as Merlin pulled up the hem of his linen shirt. 

Merlin spread his hands over his chest, letting his fingertips roam.

It was no surprise that Arthur was tan and muscular in less obvious places, but _fuck_ he belonged in a museum. And if what Merlin felt digging into him from below was any sort of indication for how the night would go, then he would be very sore in the morning. 

Arthur was more physically sensitive than he expected. It seemed like everytime Merlin grazed his fingers across him, he sharply inhaled. 

_He probably isn’t used to being loved like this._ Merlin mused

He loved that Arthur shuddered under his touch.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Before things got too heavy, Merlin wordlessly led him to the bedroom.

He knew what this was. Both of them did. It was just pushing all the shit from the streets out of their heads and fucking out their frustrations. For Arthur, it was the loss of his father, the only source of warmth in his life since the sun rose on his first day, and for Merlin, the fear that he caused all this. 

It was just sex. It could’ve been anyone, it didn’t matter the face or the name. Nothing would come of it.

But frankly, that wasn't correct and a part of both of them knew it. 

Arthur would never admit it, but he felt something he’d never felt before. It occurred to him just before Merlin removed Arthur’s last article of clothing, spit on his hand and gripped his cock. 

This wasn’t the clinical thing he had taken part in for so many years. There was something there. He could feel it. 

Watching the sharp curves of Merlin’s body working to get him off, and remembering the first time Arthur had the intuition that Merlin preferred the company of men, evoked something. It was the first time Gwaine ever found himself at the bar and noticed that Merlin was there, two nights after Percy’s engagement party. Merlin stood there flustered for speech as Gwaine was joking and smiling at him, as he’d do with a close friend or maybe a woman. 

Arthur thought about how completely unflustered Merlin was now. 

No, he knew _exactly_ what his was doing.

He was starting to dribble out come, which Merlin, in turn, used as lubricant.

_God, where did he get that._

Merlin prepared himself and climbed up to ride him, pushing Arthur’s shoulder into the bedding, as if he could get any harder.

When Arthur slipped inside him, he uttered a moan. All Arthur wanted, was to watch Merlin’s face as he panted for him.

_“Arthur~”_

All these years, he was content with watching the backs of the men he fucked, sometimes pulling their hair suited him. 

He had never been so intent on watching their pleasure. Maybe he didn’t care, or maybe he wasn’t as interested in pleasing them as he was Merlin.

It all came back to Merlin.

_God, he was beautiful._

  
Merlin let his head fall back on his neck, as he panted towards the ceiling with closed eyes. 

Climax descended upon Arthur. It filled his veins with ecstasy and he moaned. Merlin came immediately.

The two sat for a moment, catching their breath. Arthur's hands had not left Merlin's naked thighs.

Finally, he dismounted the blond in a huff and fell onto the mattress. The blond smiled to himself, still out of breath and heart still throbbing.

Merlin looked at him and smiled too. He laughed at the sheer ludicrousy of the situation. 

After all, he had just brought New York's most notorious gang leader to orgasm.

And Arthur was such a serious man, seeing him be vulnerable was completely erotic. When he smiled, the heavy air lifted and he was a different person. 

It was difficult for him to remove himself from his work. Arthur felt naked when he couldn’t feel the uncomfortable snake wrapped around his torso that served as his holster. He often found himself tracking all that outside shit in the house and making a mess of things. He didn’t know how to turn it off. 

A mind that is always running is good for business, and not much else.

The blond looked down, breath slowing, at the man who was laying on his shoulder. He tenderly pushed a few dark strands out of Merlin’s face, who’s eyes were already closing. 

Arthur was sick for sleep, but he couldn’t help gazing a little longer at the face that made his head stop.

He wished things weren’t this way. He wanted to lie here all night and day with a man who could warm him. 

He knew this was not his destiny. Not for the life he had chosen to uphold.

It was stupid of him to allow this kind of thing to happen. 

The loss of his father only proved how quickly something could be taken from him. People liked to sneak into your life and crawl under your skin, and make a whole bloody mess of things, just for fun.

It was clear that his father’s bullet had been meant for him. Now he had to do everything in his power to make his life worth the life lost.

And fucking Merlin was not on the list. This would only serve as a distraction.

Somewhere around six in the morning, Merlin woke up. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed half dressed, bare back to him. He hadn’t slept. He just lied for those hours looking at nothing at all in complete contempt of himself.

Merlin put a hand on his shoulder, “Arthur?” but Arthur lurched to stand. He shrugged his arms into his old bloody shirt, and didn’t bother doing the buttons to his vest. 

“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, hardly awake. 

He finished tying his shoes, “This was a mistake.” His tone was cold. 

Merlin stood up before Arthur could leave.

“Wait, just come back to bed. It’s early, and you’ve had a long ni-”

“No. I have business to attend to,” Arthur went around Merlin, but he caught his sleeve.

“Arthur, you need rest.” 

He pulled his arm out of Merlin’s grip and snarled, “There is nothing I need.” 

He shut the door behind him, leaving Merlin, again, in a very empty apartment. 

  
  
_____________________________  
  


“I can’t do this anymore,” Merlin said to his feet. He knew the danger of what he was doing.

The man next to him was quiet.

“This is what you signed up for. You must prove where your loyalties lie.”

“Consider this my resignation.”

“You better fucking watch yourself, boy.” The man got up, and glowered down at Merlin. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled away along the dirt path.

Merlin exhaled. These men would be looking for him without doubt. He’d basically just signed his death warrant, and yet he felt a little better; a little freer. 

He’d done right by Arthur, or at least he was working on it.

  
  
  


_____________________________

The next week wasn’t any easier. Arthur reverted back to a more resolute sort of anger, that scared the shit out of Merlin. 

He knew they were formulating a plan of retaliation, but they were very careful to not be overheard. Everytime Merlin would go into the back room with a tray of scotch or Whisky, the room went quiet until he left again. 

Arthur wouldn’t look at him. Merlin wanted to get him alone so that he could ask him what the hell was going on, but Arthur never wasn’t surrounded by some burly man who was packing a revolver. 

He became a menace. 

The Bowery Boys were not usually the ones who inflicted violence so much as the ones who orchestrated it. They were quiet killers, but lately, they’d been roaring.

Some nights Gwaine would barge in with a murderous look in his eye, and Arthur was never too far behind. On these nights, one could easily spot patches of blood on their coats that likely wasn’t theirs. Gwaine would often entertain a woman on his lap, and Arthur would sit there and smoke like a fish. 

He always kept a colt under his arm and a knife in his boot. 

It was not as though he clung to live so dearly, that he couldn’t muster sleeping a night without a weapon on his bedside, but that he had a duty to fulfill and would not leave this life before filled it.

It all spilled over into his dreams. Arthur’s face would be the last thing Cenred would look upon before the life fled from his eyes. He would kill him so that they could end this war once and for all.

After one particular meeting, Arthur held back to light a cigarette. Merlin nabbed his arm and dragged him into the back room. He had really done his best to listen in, but there were only a few words he could make out from the other side of the wall. 

“I hope you have a fucking explanation for this,” he growled, straightening his long black coat.

“A bomb? Really? Do you want to die in prison?” 

“This doesn’t concern you, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin stood there. The bridge of his nose shriveled like the words he was about to speak tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Arthur, my dad died when I was a kid. He was Irish, and Uther killed him.” Merlin honestly didn’t know what would happen next. Arthur stared at him with rage and horror, he slipped a hand under his coat no doubt with a finger on the trigger. 

“And at first, I really wanted your dad to hurt like I did… Or I thought that’s what I wanted. But then I met you and Morgana, and all of the other people who were hurting just as much as I was. I- I don’t want you to die.”

Arthur just looked at him for a second.

“But if you’re hell-bent on killing yourself, and you will if you go against Cenred like this, then I’m going to die with you.” 

“What?” Arthur spat.

Merlin furrowed his brow.

“I want to fight with you.” 

Arthur wiped away his look of incredulousness, and straightened his posture.

His original suspicions of Merlin were confirmed

“Why should I let you? It seems you’ve been going behind my back to my enemy this whole time, how do I know this isn’t some sort of plot against me?”

Merlin thought for a second. 

“I guess you don’t. But I’m going to tell you right now that it’s not and you can choose to believe me or don’t. I’m also going to tell you that every inch of what I felt for you that night was real and had already been running around my brain for at least a week prior. And it hasn’t quite stopped since.”

Arthur just looked at him. This moment was the only time his face betrayed his body. 

Merlin could tell that Arthur felt the same way about him. He also understood why Arthur had to push him away, but it didn't make it any easier.

He continued, “Plus, If I really wanted you dead you’d be dead.”

Arthur laughed, “you couldn’t kill me if you tried.” 

Merlin started counting on his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, just counting all the drinks I could’ve poisoned you with.” 

Arthur glared at him, but Merlin smiled in his lopsided way and held out his hand.

“So, will you teach me to fight?” 

Arthur looked at his hand, and shook it. Merlin smoothly pulled him in and kissed him. 

Arthur broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on Merlin’s. He closed his eyes, remembering Merlin’s smell and taste and all of it.

Merlin looked onto his lips and over his face. “I’ve missed you,” He whispered sweetly.

Arthur looked pained but didn’t pull away.

“Don’t say that to me.” 

Merlin put a hand across the blond’s jaw and rubbed circles into his cheek with his thumb. 

Somehow saying it back to him made it more true. And he knew the second he admitted it, to himself or otherwise, Merlin would be ripped from him. 

Instead of saying anything, he just kissed him again. 

There was a smash of glass and both of them jumped. Arthur bursted through the door into the bar area, and Merlin wasn’t too far behind.

“Finally, some service. What a shitty pub.” A short man groaned from a barstool. His clothes were ratty and it looked as though he hadn’t bathed in weeks.

“Merlin, clean that up,” Arthur nodded towards the shattered glass, then looked to the man “What can I get you, sir?” 

“A scotch and an appointment with Arthur Pendragon. I am told this is one of his haunts.” The man smiled. 

Merlin shot a frightened look to Arthur, who didn’t look up from the drink he was pouring.

“And what is it regarding, may I ask?”

“War,” the man spat before he drank his drink, “If he’s not in, I’ll come back another time. Please send him my best wishes.” He smiled.

He chipped something small and metal into his empty glass. Merlin couldn’t see the object from where he was, but Arthur’s face didn’t change. The blond watched the man as he got up. He tipped his head slightly to acknowledge his exit.

Arthur fished out the little thing from the glass and held it up. 

It was a bullet with something etched into the side.

_AP._

“What is it?” Merlin whispered.

For _Arthur Pendragon_.

  
  
  


_____________________________

That night there was a meeting. All key members of the Atlantic Guard and the Bowery Boys sat around the dining table in a dark little corner of Arthur’s apartment. The room was hazy with cigarette smoke and dim lamps. 

The place was nice for that neighborhood. Uther had been relatively wealthy, but all profits were put back into the business. Arthur saw hardly any of it. But he didn’t need to. He needed only enough to live.

They all poured over a map that stretched past the corners of the table. Eight sat and ten stood. Merlin peered over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur wasn’t one to speak first, but he was listening intently. Percy was explaining something about the sewer tunnels in the Dead Rabbits district of the Five Points, Merlin discreetly splayed his hand over Arthur’s back. He felt him lean into the touch and exhale heavily.

Now was clearly not the time for intimacy, and Merlin wouldn’t push it. He wanted to set his warmth there as a sort of reminder that things would be alright.

Arthur relaxed a bit, before he put in his two cents. “Our goal is to take out their fighters before we start the riot. Blowing up the sewers underneath their headquarters will make it difficult to earn sympathy from the Police, and frankly, will fuel a burning vengeance for property damage. We have the names and addresses of many of their advocates, I vote we hit them swiftly and quietly. Leaving the top dogs on top, with no resources or muscle. Which would make the prospect of war hopeless in their eyes.”

Everyone looked at him for a second trying to process. 

“How do you propose we do that?” 

“Well…” He took a drag, “they’ll hit us where they know we’ll be. So that’ll either be here, The Bowery, or the Green Dragon. We lure them in, let them make the first move while we distract the Police, and blow them to shreds, like the Russians did to their land. If they’re smart at all advance all their pawns, but all their royal court will remain safe somewhere hidden away. “

“And what if they plan more than just an attack on one of our lots?” Gwaine offered.

“If all goes to plan, we’ll have more people than they will. We can station the extras at other likely locations.”

The room was silent.

“I want this whole thing ended. God knows we’ve all seen enough bloodshed. Spare anyone you can, but know this no longer threat, they’ve passed that.”

He paused.

“This is war, boys.”

  
  


After they settled everything, all filed out the door, leaving all but Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin alone in the apartment.

“Merlin, you may go, I’d like to have a word with my brother.”

“Actually, he’s staying with me tonight.” 

Morgana looked at him confused. 

“I’ll leave you two to work on this alone.” Merlin disappeared into the kitchen to clean up a little.

“Don’t tell me, you two have struck something up. Oh come on, Arthur, he was so sweet! Why’d you have to go off and ruin him.”

“I… I can’t talk to you about this right now.” 

Morgana rolled her eyes and started wrapping her shawl around her shoulders to leave, “Someday you’ll have to learn how to talk to people about more than just war strategies.” 

She turned to him before heading down the hall. 

“I’ll see you then,” Morgana kissed him on the cheek and left. 

“She’s right, you know.” Merlin said with a small smile on his face.

“Shut up.” Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin’s neck and playfully put him in a sort of choke hold. 

“Jesus, how old are you!” Merlin huffed.

“Older than you apparently!” Arthur obnoxiously kissed the side of Merlin’s face

When he finally let go, Merlin brushed himself off and Arthur declared himself famished.

“Let me cook something.” Merlin offered. 

“What are we, married?” 

He laughed, “Is that an invitation?”

“Depends on how good your cooking is.” Arthur smiled kissing him on the lips. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Things have gotten crazy with exams and ya know, a fucking pandemic. Keep with me, I promise it'll be interesting

He could feel every point at which their bodies met. It felt like his skin melted into Merlin’s, and there was no telling who’s was who’s. They were just one being.

Their food remained half eaten on the table, and their clothes were strewn about. And it was all perfect.

Merlin could swear that Arthur purred every time he ran his fingers through his blond hair. Arthur’s body was draped over Merlin’s with no intention of moving. 

  
  


Merlin wore a silver chain around his neck and Arthur, a gold, and neither man was wearing anything else. It was really quite fitting. Arthur was always the golden boy of the family, perhaps even the neighborhood, and everyone knew him. No one, however, knew him so intimately as Merlin did.

And perhaps no one would. 

He looked so fondly upon his lover’s face that it might have been that his whole world could stop turning, but he would continue to gaze happily.

Merlin had a far thinner frame than the other, but he still had lean bulk on him. Thin dark hair spread over the center of his chest and traveled down, down, down, onto his most intimate parts. 

He had no problem growing a full beard if he wanted to, but he tended to keep it trim. The hair that flowed around his face and the back of his neck was full of youth and curl, and would likely remain so well past it's going grey.

Arthur loved that there was still evidence of childhood on Merlin’s face. His eyes lit up when he smiled. It made him feel like he’d known him for ages. Especially because he wasn’t much allowed to have a childhood. Arthur was always expected to stand up straight and speak with years of experience that he didn’t have. He saw many people die and many people leave. 

And it wore him. 

His whole way of being was completely enrapt in being self-sufficient, but now that he knew _this_ was possible, he didn’t think he could ever go back.

The world outside was brutal and vicious, but here, with him, the room was warm. He didn’t ever want to leave. 

Merlin pet his hair. Arthur hummed. Merlin chuckled.

“What?” The blond smiled.

“What, what?”

“Why are you laughing at me?” He lifted his head to look him in the face.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Arthur put his head back down on the other’s shoulder, before Merlin spoke up again, “I love the way you hum when I touch you.”

Arthur’s face turned a little red. He didn’t even realize he did that. 

He must’ve felt himself stiffen up because he then let his face soften and his shoulders relax.

“I guess I just like the way you feel.”

He kissed Merlin on the lips. It was chaste but sweet. 

They were starting to feel sleep pull at them. Their talk was low.

“When did you first know about men?” Merlin asked softly, lying at face level with him. 

“Is that really what you want to ask me?” Arthur scoffed, “when did _you_ first know about men?”

Merlin smirked. “I’ve always known. Since I was a kid.” 

Arthur pushed some hair out of Merlin's eyes. This was quickly becoming a gesture used only during tender moments like these.

“I guess I have too.”

“Was it hard? You know, with your father and all?”

Arthur thought for a second.

“No, he never knew. I never felt like it was important enough to tell him.”

“I think it’s important.”

“Of course you do,” Arthur smirked and kissed him again. 

“Well yes- but people out there… if they knew… I mean, people are killed for this.”

“People are killed regardless.”

They were quiet for a second. Arthur felt that statement hang in the air. This was somewhat of life motto to him, but he knew that to Merlin, it was cynical and harsh.

“I always kind of knew my name would die with me,” Arthur continued, “I think I’ve always wanted it to. Maybe then all this would be done.” Arthur knew he had struck a chord that might’ve been more woeful than conversation was meant to be. 

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” Merlin said.

“No, it’s just… I’ve never spoken about it to anyone. I don’t mean to be down, it’s just the truth. Growing up, I often felt as though I was never meant to be born. I mean, my father raising a child in that environment, it was… I felt to be a burden, so I made myself as useful as possible and learned strategy.” 

They were quiet for a second. There were so many thoughts swimming around Merlin’s head. 

“Arthur…” he broached the subject delicately, “why haven’t I ever heard of your mother?”

Arthur gave him a small smile, inviting his question.

“She died in an accident when I was very young.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, I never really knew her and my father would never speak of her. I think her death had something to do with the Dead Rabbits and that’s why his hatred was so strong.” 

Merlin didn’t speak.

“All my life there’s been war, it seems. I just want it to en-”

“Hey-” Merlin said, cutting him off, “No more of talk of this. Things are going to be better, I’ll make sure of it. But there’s not time for that tonight… C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

Arthur realized that this kind of stream of consciousness was a bit foreboding and he silently kicked himself for allowing it to go there. He was not used to being someone who overshared.

Arthur smiled at him for talking him down. Merlin was beautiful. He was always beautiful. 

  
  
  


_Things are going to be better._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Today was the day. 

_We are going to blow up the Dead Rabbits._

Arthur layed in bed and stared at the ceiling. The sun was starting to rise. He couldn’t bear to pull himself away. He knew this might be his last day.

Merlin rested his head, still sleeping, on Arthur’s naked chest. The dark haired man’s scruff was a bit itchy, but not unbearable. His arm draped across his tan stomach. Arthur ran his fingers gently between the sleeping man’s shoulder blades.

It was true, he loved the feel of him. The smell of him, even in the unwashed morning. All of it. He would fight, if anything, to keep it. 

Arthur knew that Merlin had pledged allegiance to his enemy but ultimately betrayed them, he feared for failure and that they would come and take him. 

When kings fight over one soldier, it becomes a very personal and bloody battle. He knew this. 

Arthur could assume that very few of Cenred’s men had seen Merlin in person, due to the nature of his strategy. Meanwhile all of Arthur’s higher ups had met Merlin’s acquaintance many times. It would not be easy to hide him away. And if word were to get out of Merlin’s history, Arthur might not be able to save him from his own men.

It was a terrifying prospect.

And similarly, he would not be capable of warning his men about the war for Merlin, because they’d accuse him of being blinded by love to the fact that he was a traitor. Not that they knew that he loved him, but it would be the only plausible explanation for excusing him of this.

_Oh god,_ Arthur thought, _do I love him?_

He’d used the term so carelessly in his head. 

As if he could hear Arthur’s thoughts, Merlin stirred from his sleep, and nuzzled his face into Arthur’s rib.

_Loving him would make everything one hundred times more difficult._

Suddenly, Arthur had a reason to come home from fighting. Now, he had something to lose. 

His first instinct was to hurl himself from Merlin’s touch and never look back, as he’d done previously.

But his body didn’t move.

“Arthur, what’s wrong?” Merlin asked groggily. 

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“You just went stiff for a second. I got worried.” 

Arthur looked at him for a moment.

“How long have you been awake?”

Merlin grinned his goofy lop-sided grin, “awhile.” 

Arthur couldn’t help but smile back. He wanted to let himself enjoy the time he had.

Merlin kissed him and Arthur savored it.

“Mmm…” Arthur mused. 

Merlin kissed him again and lingered in front of his face. 

“Does anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

Arthur shrugged, just trying to pull him in again.

“I guess that’s why you keep me around then, huh?” Merlin smiled.

“Oh god, if only you knew.” Arthur smothered him with kisses, making Merlin give a muffled laugh.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

The errand boys had already left their bloody threat on the doors of the Dead Rabbits, by noontime, they would retaliate, and by two, there would be war.

Arthur was quiet all morning. He was eating his breakfast when Merlin draped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and started to kiss his neck. The blond touched Merlin’s forearm, and muttered, “Not today…” 

Merlin lifted himself. He felt Arthur’s stress. He didn’t want to add to it, so he thought he’d make himself sparse. 

Merlin left him to clean, but the idea wouldn’t leave him. He’d felt his lust, but he felt little else. Arthur seemed to close himself after every intimate act. Occasionally, there was evidence of romance which crescendoed always into sex and the seemed to extinguish entirely. 

Merlin had always wanted to be forgiven, but he knew something like this was unimaginable. So he made himself useful in other ways. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have had Arthur otherwise, but his first touch was certainly motivated by more than lust. 

However, every moment after that, to him, was powerful. Arthur made him feel things he’d never felt. And when he realized that, all of the other shit melted away.

It always seemed that Arthur would soak up his warmth, then revert to his viciously lonely, calculating former self. 

Merlin sat down across from the brooding gangster. 

“Do I burden you?”

Arthur glared at him. It was dark and frightening, like he didn’t hear the question. He straightened himself before answering, “Yes. You do.” 

Merlin’s hands were shaking. He knew it. He was just a play-thing to him. Merlin started to get up to leave. He couldn’t bear to hear it. 

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand.

“You burden me in every way, Merlin.”

“Alright, tha-” 

“Let me finish,” Arthur interrupted. He knew if he didn’t explain himself in this moment, he might never. 

“You terrify me. You-you make me want to survive the day so that I can come home to you. Gangsters don’t get to live that kind of life. I can’t go on knowing that I might be putting you in danger…” Arthur took a breath. Blood was rising to his cheeks. He’d never let himself go like this. 

He continued, “You know, I was thinking about it earlier and I decided that I’m in love with you. I’ve never been in love with anyone. My very next impulse upon discovering that, was to run and never ever look back, because I think that losing you would be the last thing I could bear, so I might as well cut the cord myself...” 

Merlin didn’t know what to say. 

“But you didn’t run.”

“No, I didn’t and I won’t.” Arthur was still looking at him hard, “It seems I have only you and Morgana left in this world. And God knows what there’ll be after today.” 

Merlin was touched. He had never been taken to like this. He’d had friends, obviously, and his mother. But he’d only had two people in bed before this, but he had never had a lover.

Arthur took an interest to _him_ of all people. Arthur could have anyone he chose and he chose Merlin. He felt blessed and unsure if he was deserving. The blond was beautiful, and charming, and when things were good with him, they were really good.

“You need to get to a safe place and stay there today.” Arthur said, fixing his cuffs. 

Merlin didn’t argue. He got to cleaning again. Arthur got on his overcoat and flipped out his collar. When he was finished, he grabbed Merlin’s arm and pulled him into a searing kiss. It was one of those Like-the-World-Depended-on-it kind of kisses. 

After a moment, he pulled away and just stood for a second, a sort of last look. There was sadness in his eyes; he couldn’t hide it. And then he was gone. 

Merlin stood over the sink and sighed. 

It was all weighing on him, and it was heavy. 

He wanted to fight with him. He wanted to prove himself.

  
  
  
  
  


________________

  
  
  
  


Two of the Bowery Boys escaped the Green Dragon before it burst into flames, and three were not so lucky. The Boys made it only a few yards when the fragments of their haunt were raining down upon them, cutting and bruising them. It was a sorry sight to behold, but there were always some trampled; that is the way of war.

They scampered for the Atlantic Guard as the next stage took succession. Gwaine was surrounded by his usual posse and the remaining Pendragons in a tavern five blocks down the way. The boy leapt through the doors with blood dripping down his neck, with the other kicking at his heels trying to keep up. 

“It’s done, we’ve got’em!”

Gwaine laughed triumphantly, “how many d’you think got crushed?”

“Oh, I’d say fifteen!” 

“And the others?” Morgana asked.

The boy removed his cap, “they were not so quick, ma’am.”

“Alright,” Gwaine smiled, “give our men the go ahead, take them to the wreckage, that’s where the Rabbits will likely hit. Tell them to start swingin’.” The battered boys hurried out.

“The police are taken care of. They shouldn’t bother us for a few hours.” Arthur stated with his arms crossed. 

“Alright boys, I’m not one for speeches. But I’ll leave you with these words. In these dark times, we must fight for that which is ours, and bash those trying to take it from us. These bloody Dead Rabbits ‘ve had it commin’ for a while and now it’s time to give it to ‘em! Let’s go!” Gwaine shouted. 

The pub erupted in battle cries and hoots and hollers. The gang blew out of the place with riffles and mallets. Some wielded workmens’ tools like axes. One unruly bastard carried a bat with nails sticking out of it every which way. 

Gwaine marched down the street with a musket over his shoulder, a grin, and a toothpick between his teeth. He wore his signature blue-green vest, dark overcoat and hair down to his shoulders. At first glance, one might make the mistake to call him charming, but he could bash bones at the drop of a hat and still emerge with a smile. 

Arthur was far more deliberate. There was no word uttered nor action done that wasn’t thought out first. He strode down the street with his revolver to his side, and his chin up. 

His pack of wolves were ready for anything and hungry for blood. 

There was already a brawl on the street. The rubble of the bar had small fires interspersed across the ground, but no one was phased. The Rabbits were back and their numbers tripled with more en route. 

Percy approached one, and took the first swing. The man fought back.

There were about thirty Atlantic Guard and Bowery Boy fighters, but more were streaming in by the minute. 

All were shooting, hitting, jabbing, and clawing their way through the crowd of Rabbits. There were curses and shrieks and it all was deafening. Gwaine was fighting two burly men at once and winning, while Arthur carefully took aim of his gun and shot men between the eyes.

One particularly short man, (but notably strong,) snuck up on him and pushed a crowbar across his windpipe. In the chaos of it all, Arthur elbowed the man’s kidney and when his grip loosened, punched the hilt of his gun into the man’s skull. He didn’t watch him go down before he moved on to tear someone new to shreds.

Even Morgana was fighting tooth and claw with a dagger in each hand. Arthur didn’t fear for her survival, she was tough enough to take four men at once. 

Some civilians were cowering behind half closed shudders and others were curiously looking about. 

At some point Leon looked up between battles and uttered a short “holy shit” as he noticed the sheer number of fighters that emerged onto the streets. It went as far as the eye could see. 

Most were likely unaware of the cause, but participated nonetheless. 

Police had begun to run along the outskirts of the crowd with their whistles and sticks. They came earlier than agreed upon, but then again one could never trust a pig. 

The Rabbits who fought either died or retreated. Those who fled would likely inform their superiors and they’d receive reinforcements. 

Arthur noticed two withdraw. 

He chose to follow them if he were able to make his way out of this mess. He ripped himself out of the mayhem. The two ran through an alley onto Mulberry Street.

_They were headed to the Bowery._

He was glad he stationed a few men there. He whistled for back up, in all the commotion Percy was the only one who heard him. He charged towards Arthur to help storm the Bowery. 

As soon as Percy stepped into the joint he was met with a blow to the head. The other Bowery Boys who’d been sent there sat bloodied and lifeless on the ground. Arthur whipped out his pistol and shot one of the Rabbits in the neck, a steady fountain of blood streamed out of the wound as he gasped for air like a fish on land. The two other Rabbits overcame him, he tried to fight them but they twisted his arm until he heard a snap, and felt a dizzying shot of pain. 

Percy lay on the ground. Arthur was almost certain he would live, but there was no time to tell before he too fell unconscious.

The last thing he felt were men whisking him off, and a new searing pain from the back of his head.

  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit dark and angsty, folks. 
> 
> There's a few homophobic references, but I kept it brief because that's not what this fic's about.

He opened his eyes. His head was throbbing. There was a light hanging over him, and a set of wooden stairs leading somewhere above, but there wasn’t much around him to be seen. Judging by the smell, he was below street level. There was another smell, something like old meat but it’s hard to tell when you’re drifting in and out of consciousness.

He didn’t bother to test the legitimacy of the knot that kept him tightly to the chair. If he made much sudden movement or noise, some creature might crawl out and bludgeon him to death.

His head rolled on his neck. The clothes he wore clung to him with disgusting saturation. It was as though they had thrown him into a pool of sweat and blood and something else. 

It was pungent, and unnatural. 

It was oil.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t expected this day to come, he’d just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Arthur was hoping for at least another week with Merlin before the clouds rolled in, but as usual, fate had other plans.

He gently moved his foot, but it was tied down at the ankle.

_Fuck._

Arthur kept a small knife in his boot but his hands were tied somewhere behind him. He’d forgotten about the pain in his left arm until now, and never mind the taste of old blood that seemed to linger in his mouth.

Arthur heard someone approaching him. He let his head flop forward as though he were asleep.

The man gripped his blond hair and yanked it up to get a proper look at his face.

“Good morning, princess.” The man smiled, with a vague accent. He had a long thin face and yellow teeth. “Rest easy?” 

Arthur grunted, his scalp was still sensitive from the blow. 

He’d never met Cenred in person, but he fit every dirty description. The man in front of Arthur wore a string necktie which was tied into a bow, dark suspenders and a grey undershirt. His hair was long but slicked back, with a well maintained beard that had streaks of grey. 

“Now, I think it’s about time we had a lil’ talk just me and you.” Cenred pulled a chair up to sit face to face with Arthur who was looking rather ill. “See, that was a nasty trick you played on me and my friends, Princess. A lotta men are dead because of you... my men. I say we end this feud once and for all, eh?” 

Arthur couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds. He was trying to catch his breath. 

“If you kill me, someone else will just rise and take my place.” Arthur huffed. 

“If you’re referring to Gwaine, he’s already been taken care of.” Cenred stated as a matter of fact. 

Arthur closed his mouth and glared at him. 

Just then, a lad clomped down the wooden stairs, “He’s ready for you, shall I send him in?” 

Cenred smiled, “Absolutely.” Then he turned back to Arthur, “I’ve got a lovely little surprise for you. Really, I think you’re going to love it.” 

Arthur spat in his face, blood dribbling down his chin. Cenred calmly wiped it off and stood, not breaking eye-contact. 

Arthur gritted his teeth. It was futile to fight what was inevitable. He didn’t beg for his life, he wouldn’t. He would take it as it comes. 

“Alright, in ya go-” said a gruff voice from the top of the stairs. Then a body toppled down and fell into a heap at the bottom, a mere three feet from Arthur.

The dark haired man groaned. 

“There’s my boy!” Cenred joked. He strode over to grab the man’s chin and lifted it to reveal Merlin’s mangled face. 

Arthur’s body launched forward, but to no avail. Merlin sputtered. 

His cheek was bruised and swollen, and there was a line of dried blood that traveled from his nostrils to his lip. Merlin’s tired eyes widened in horror when he recognized the man strapped up in front of him. 

“ _Arthur-_ ” Merlin uttered. 

“Oh, Arthur!” Cenred mimicked, clearly relishing the terror in their eyes. “You know, you two really are perfect for eachother. He patted Merlin on the cheek, the bruised side. Merlin hissed in pain. 

His hair was wet too. Oil, no doubt. 

“He might not’ve mentioned this, Princess, but he ordered the attack on your dear old dad. Well- he didn’t _order_ it exactly, that’s my job, but he fed us the information that made it possible. Did you know that?” 

Arthur hardly heard him. _Are you alright?_ He tried to say with his eyes. Merlin pressed his lips into a thin line then nodded slightly. 

“But that shouldn’t be a problem because you’re a killer too.”

Arthur would’ve given anything to prove him right and drag a knife across his throat in that moment. He couldn’t look to his lover’s face without his own going red with rage. 

“I’ll admit, I’dve never thought you two to be buggering if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears... but life is a funny thing. You sure took your mission seriously, didn’t you, boy?” Cenred laughed at his own disgusting joke. 

“Well,” he continued unceremoniously, “you two can keep having at each other in hell. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.” Cenred stood over Arthur and gritted out “You’re just like your rotten father. You’ll see real him soon.” 

Cenred took another swing and hit Arthur square in the jaw. Arthur turned and spit blood on the floor. 

Cenred took one last look at him, smiled and disappeared up the stairs. 

Merlin leapt forward, “Are you alright!” He graced Arthur’s cheek with his palm. Arthur leaned into his touch. Merlin’s breath was shaky.

“Yes.” Arthur choked, smiling. Every muscle in his face hurt but he didn’t let on.

Merlin flashed a brilliant grin. There were tears in his eyes and he couldn’t express how happy he was to see him. 

Merlin got to work untying him. Arthur grimaced with pain when Merlin got to his broken arm.

He paused for a second, “what’s that smell?”

“I think they've dowsed me in oil.”

“Me too.

“Then they probably plan on setting fire to this place…”

Merlin looked at him in horror, and then finished his work quickly. He grabbed Arthur’s arm who yelped.

“You’re hurt?” 

“Let’s deal with that later.” 

Arthur charged up the steps, but he could smell smoke before he got to the top. When he peered into the main room, it had already been engulfed in flames. He tugged Merlin back down to the room, the wooden staircase had started to sear as well. Soon, there would be no way up. There was no escape.

They were trapped.

He saw the terror in Merlin’s face and it broke him that there was nothing he could do to save him. The fumes started to surround them. Merlin looked at him with panic, he wrapped his arms around Arthur one last time. And Arthur reciprocated as much as he could. Merlin gripped him so tightly. He felt his face grow wet with sadness. 

“ _I love you, Arthur_ ,” He choked.

Arthur nestled his face into the crook of his neck, like a sleepy child to a parent. He did this as if to say “I love you too,” because his lips couldn’t quite bring themselves to utter these words out loud. His whole life was wrapped up in Merlin, and he couldn’t bear to leave it yet.

They pulled away from the tenderness of the moment, still very close. Arthur watched him breathe heavily as he caressed his face with sadness. 

Merlin’s eyes grew wide with excitement as he looked past him, “Arthur, look!” 

Arthur turned his head. There was a narrow grate on the floor in the corner. This must’ve been a butcher’s room when the building was built. The grate was about two feet in diameter.

They started to cough. There was no other way. Arthur wrenched the grate from it’s divot in the floor. 

Black smoke pervaded the ceiling, as the rafters started to catch on. 

The hole was considerably smaller than the metal circle that hid it. Merlin started to fit himself into the cavity. He could easily slip himself in. His shoulders were narrow enough that he could squeeze himself, not so uncomfortably, into the sewer below.

Arthur, however, was too broad. And he knew this. He wouldn’t be getting out of this one.

“Hey- kiss me,” Arthur said before he pushed his lips onto Merlin’s.

Merlin pulled himself off, “We have to go.’ 

The air grew thick and heavy.

Merlin slid his body into the shaft and started to climb down the metal pegs into the sewer. The room was completely dark except for the shroud of flames that was devouring the roof, and dropping pieces around the two. The structure was crumbling. And the fire was deafening.

“Arthur, come on!” Merlin shouted over the noise.

Arthur choked back a sob and looked down at his lover, “No, you go. I won’t make it down there.”

A charred rafter fell from the ceiling just a few feet from him. 

“I’m not leaving you!” 

“You fucking have to!” 

Arthur pushed the grate back to cover the hole. 

“Don’t do this!” Merlin cried.

The blond laid his body on the floor where the clean air was slowly being churned into dust. His lungs turned to tar as he tried to cough through the smoke. He thought about all the times he’d wished for a different life, or at least different circumstances.

He thought about his sister and his father, even his mother crossed his mind. He even thought about Cenred. He didn’t hate him. How could he? 

If Arthur was the target of all Uther’s rage, he would want to kill him too.

He didn’t want to think about that now.

The fire was starting to kiss his skin.

He’d been ready for a long time.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wait for him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning; a few graphic depictions and grief  
> if it wigs you out, feel free to skip to the end 👀

Merlin didn’t know what to do. When his feet touched the floor he felt lost. He could hear Arthur dying above him, and if anything, he wanted to do it with him. But he owed him this. 

If he wasn’t going to die by his love, he was going to live by him. 

Merlin dashed through the sewer tunnel. He couldn’t imagine what he looked like or even what he smelled like, but now wasn’t the time for that. He had no idea where he was going and he couldn’t stop coughing. The smoke clouded his head as well as his lungs. Acting solely on what little intuition he could muster, he found his way above ground, and found himself gasping for clean air. 

He crawled up onto Chatham Street. The fire station was only two blocks from there, but he was astonished to see that the brawl reached this far north. This was officially a city-wide battle and he had started it. There were small heaps of flesh resembling bodies scattered about, and little fires everywhere. At some corners, there was still fighting, but it were mostly day drunkards, wanting to be a part of something. 

The stench of summer sewage and the sun baked streets was absolutely putrid but Merlin hardly noticed. 

He remembered Arthur mentioning that the Bowery Boys was originally created by a stack of volunteer firemen, who could do no wrong in the eyes of the law due to their bravery and self-lessness. Thus, Uther rose to fame by aid of the law, and carried out his own malicious agenda, starting a feud that would end only in crusade. 

Merlin stumbled down the lane. When he finally reached the firehouse, he collapsed at the door. 

  
  
  


He awoke in a bed. Or a cot at least. It was not until he nearly coughed up a lung that he saw another human being. His face throbbed, he then remembered his wounds.

“Hey, easy...” A man sat down near him. The guy was kind looking and honestly stunning, but there was more occupying Merlin’s mind. He couldn’t remember if he spit out any sort of word of the fire before he fell to the ground. 

“ _Arthur-_ ”

“Here, try to drink something.”

“But, the fire-”

“The fire on Mallory Lane, yes we’ve taken care of it.” The man handed Merlin a glass of liquid. “You were muttering about it non-stop.”

“Oh...were there any victims?” 

“Two critically wounded and one dead.”

Merlin didn’t know that there had been other people in the building. Maybe looters came in to see what they could take and didn’t make it out in one piece. 

Merlin propped himself up, grunting in the process. “Where are the victims?” he asked. 

He was still badly injured. 

The man chuckled. “You look ill. You must rest.” 

“I have to go see if my friend is alive!” 

The man looked at him for a second. “I can take you there but not before you-”

“Please!”

Merlin felt his throat clench. That couldn’t be the last time he’d see Arthur. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. The guy must’ve seen his desperation. He seemed a patient man. 

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“It’s Merlin.”

“Mine’s Lancelot, nice to meet you. Who are you looking for, Merlin?”

“Uh-” Merlin heard his voice shake, “his name’s Arthur.” 

Lancelot blinked. 

“You’re not referring to Arthur Pendragon, are you?”

“Yeah. D’you know him?” 

“Yeah… we were childhood friends… C’mon, let’s go see if he’s at St. Mary’s.” 

Lancelot helped Merlin up. He could stand steady enough, but his walk was slow. His head was still dizzy. 

Lance hailed a carriage, “St. Mary’s on 25th please!” They both clamored in. 

Merlin felt his last meal rise in his throat, but he kept it down. He felt worse than he looked, and he looked like death. He needed something to distract him, before he overthought himself to death.

“Arthur was a happy boy, arrogant even.”

“Well that last one hasn’t changed.” Merlin stated, his gaze not leaving the window.

Lance laughed, “Really?” 

Merlin didn’t speak for a second, “Of all the words I’d use to describe Arthur, happy wouldn’t be one of them.”

Lance’s face fell, “I know.” 

“What do you mean?” Merlin wasn’t really invested in the conversation before that comment, but now he had his full attention.

“Well I was around when his mother passed… and there was a change in him. I mean a lot was happening at that moment, but he became … very invested in the family business, shall we say.” 

Merlin glared at him. “What was he like before?”

“Well he was never very focussed about anything. He lived by the seat of his trousers and it all was incredibly charming… and he laughed often.” 

This broke Merlin’s heart. He couldn’t imagine Arthur as anything but the serious, lazer sharp man that he knew.

“Why didn’t you remain friends?”

“We got into an argument about what was right. He wanted me to help him fight, and there was nothing I wanted to do less. I was, I guess, a part of his gang without knowing it, right up until they tasked themselves with creating harm.”

“He’s not like that anymore.” Merlin whispered.

Lancelot opened his mouth to say something but closed it. He sat across from Merlin and eyed him, “I assume by the state of your face, you were fighting. And there isn’t an errand boy in this world with so much motivation as you. So what exactly is your relationship to Arthur?” 

Merlin glared at him, unsure of the extent to which he should trust this man. He decided inevitably that the secret was out anyways.

“He is my lover.” Merlin said it as almost a snarl, and didn’t look away as he said this. He half expected Lancelot to look down on him but he just smiled to himself. 

“Why are you laughing?” 

“I’m not laughing… Arthur really must’ve changed if he’s taking lovers now.”

“What does that mean?”

The carriage pulled to a stop.

“Nothing…” Lancelot said as he got out, “he’s just grown up quite a bit if you’ve spent more than a night with him, that’s all.”

As soon as Merlin stepped foot on the street the somber air overtook him. He had to take a breath. 

Merlin always knew when Arthur walked into a room. His presence was always felt and it was always completely commanding. 

Standing on the steps of St. Mary’s he wasn’t sure if he could feel him.

“Hey, come on.” Lancelot said, holding out his hand. Merlin didn’t take it but he did pick up the pace. 

The stench of death sat in the lobby. One could hardly hear himself think over the sounds of the moaning and shrieking of its inhabitants. Merlin felt himself shaking. This place felt godless.

The nurse who was behind the counter walked up to Merlin, “Oh dear, I’m afraid we haven’t a bed open, but I can tend to your cuts in the lobby.” 

“No, I’m not here to be treated. I’m here to claim someone.”

It was unlikely that someone would recognize Arthur even if he had been pulled from the rubble, so Merlin needed to identify him, himself. 

It was a big room with a few windows illuminating the whole. There were as many beds as could be shoved into the space. He felt his throat constrict as he looked upon the faces of the fights and fires. He kept his composure. 

“He’s not here.” Merlin whispered. He was almost relieved, looking at the state of the others. He couldn’t imagine such pain. 

“There are three more floors, he could be here.” 

_He’s not._

Merlin didn’t want to give up even though his intuition was giving him the answer. They were there for little more than a half hour longer, before Merlin burst out through the front door. He needed to catch his breath. He sat himself down and choked back a sob. 

Lancelot put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I can’t go home...” Merlin whimpered, “I can’t go home.”

“Hey, it’s alright…. We have a spare room, why don’t you spend the night?” 

Merlin sat for a moment longer, mentally pulling himself together. The two rode back to the firestation. Neither said a word for the entire duration of the ride. 

None of this felt real. It was only a year ago that Merlin had moved to Manhattan, and in that year he’d simultaneously gained everything he had ever wanted and lost it all the same. Perhaps he had been too naive to enter this business thinking that he wouldn't get cut. 

One thing was certain, he would never be so naive again. 

Part of him wished that he could turn back time and prevent himself from setting foot in this place. But he knew that he would have remained bitter for the rest of his life, if that were the case. What’s more is that he never would’ve met Arthur. He surely would’ve thrown himself off a bridge by now if he hadn’t. 

Merlin honestly couldn’t remember his life before Arthur. He certainly couldn’t imagine it after him either. 

He didn’t want his last words to him to be those of reproach.

When the two arrived back at the station, the sun was starting to set. Lancelot showed him to a room in the back, that had a few cabinets and short-beds for the fire-fighters on the late shift.

Lancelot pulled out some bread and meat from the cupboard, and handed it to Merlin. 

“Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?” Lancelot said quietly.

Merlin honestly didn’t know what he wanted. He shook his head. 

“I’m really sorry, Merlin.” Lance looked down at his calloused hands, “I fear this isn’t over for you. You’ll just have to wait for him.” 

Merlin didn’t know what this meant but he didn't say anything.

Lance silently stood and added in a different tone, “in a few hours, the shifts will change and I will notify them that you’re here, but they might come in for food anyway. Don’t fear them. They aren’t new to housing refugees.”

“Thank you.” Merlin whispered. Lancelot looked at him and pressed his lips into a line, a sort of smile that affirmed the gravity of the situation.

“Stay as long as you like, and you’re always welcome back.”

Merlin gave a short nod. Lancelot left, extinguishing the lamp on his way out. 

Merlin put away the rest of his meal and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. His eyes thanked him when they finally closed. His head hurt too much to think and somehow he managed to drift off into a somber, dreamless sleep. 

  
  
  


He awoke disoriented and late in the day. For a blissful moment, he didn’t know where he was or why he was there. 

“You sleep like a rock,” said a man from next to the cupboard across the room. 

Merlin rubbed his eyes. “Who’er you?” 

“Apologies,” the man approached, “I’m Elyan. Lancelot told us you were here.”

Merlin didn’t speak. 

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Merlin.” 

“Lance, your boy’s awake!”

“He’s not my boy.” Lancelot said from the doorway, “Good morning, Merlin. Can I make you something?”

Merlin shook his head, “I haven’t the appetite.”

“Alright, well...whatever you need, we’re here.” Lance smiled at him.

“Thank you.” Merlin whispered earnestly. 

  
  
  


He spent four nights at the fire station. They even got him to laugh once or twice. Merlin could put his head elsewhere but always, with everything, there was something missing. On the fifth night he knew he had to go home.

Merlin was losing weight. His body carried him differently. He felt it while taking the longest route home he could think to take. When he opened the door, he wanted to go no further. Merlin was shaking.

The last time he was here, _he_ had also been here. The smell of Arthur lingered still, but it had since grown stale. 

_And it was quiet._

It was quiet like the night that Uther died, but with less tension. In fact, there was absolutely no tension at all. Merlin waited for someone to make a sound.

But it was just him. 

All he could think to do was turn on the old radio. He listened to the dribble for a few minutes before turning up it as loud as it would go. He wanted to hear it from the bathroom when he washed himself.

He looked at himself in the mirror. There were still a few cuts healing, and a bruise here and there. His hair on his face had grown into a full beard, and he hardly recognized himself. It had only been a few days, but he really hadn’t taken care of himself. His face had grown gaunt and his eyes had a sunken back look. He shaved in order to get himself as back to normal as he could, at least on the outside. 

Merlin didn’t even look into the bedroom. Eventually, he had a drink and fell asleep on the couch.

At about seven in the morning, he was roused from his sleep by a knock at the door. He rolled over, believing that it was part of a dream or something of the sort, but then curiosity got the best of him.

He got up and opened the door. No one was in the hallway, but there was a small piece of paper that had been slid underneath his door. It was a corner of some note page that had been torn from the sheet.

_“Wait for him.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woof this one took me a while. Quarantine is starting to get to me which is why I think this chapter was so depressing. Sorry for that. As sad as this one was, I promise the next one will be as happy. 
> 
> Sorry for being sad. I don't know what came over me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof sorry y'all I just keep finding more to write with this one. I PROMISE next chapter will be the last. Sorry to keep lying to y'all.

Merlin felt like a visitor in his own world. Filling his time with menial tasks like sleeping and eating, until this strange game would be revealed. He didn’t have a lot of money coming in, but honestly he spent so little time at his apartment that it hardly mattered. His days were spent helping out at the firehouse, for which he very hesitantly accepted their offer of a bit of food and a large enough stipend to pay the rent.

Sometimes Merlin thought the note was just a cruel trick to heighten his hopes only to never be rewarded. He thought about the very second he read it and how his heart stopped. 

_ “Wait for him.” _

He didn’t know what it meant. Well- he knew what he wanted it to mean. But something was very wrong about it.

Two weeks passed this way. He’d opened the door to the bedroom a few times to get a change of clothes. Once he even made the bed, but while doing so, Merlin felt like he was officially banishing Arthur’s remains from his home. He never bothered to sleep in it, out of fear of having to make it again.

His sleep had turned into a few hours a night. What’s worse is that when he actually did fall into a deep sleep, the dreams he had were usually painful reminders of what he’d lost. 

The days, however, were far easier. He’d become fast friends with Lancelot, Elyan and the others who worked with him. They made the time pass quicker.

One morning he rolled over in his bed and reached out his arm, expecting to grace his lover, only to awake alone and disappointed. He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to remember a time when his body didn’t ache for Arthur Pendragon. 

It truly felt like ages ago.

Merlin knew that if he laid too long, his eyes would water at the thought. The note did give him some strength, but he’d learned by now that one could not be too hopeful in this world.

Being trapped between his apartment and the firehouse started to wear on him. He feared always being out to miss whatever it was that he waited for, so he naturally, keeping between the two seemed the safest. 

Then the safest grew to be unsatisfactory. He needed some sort of closure. _Anything._ This morning, his feet carried him to the Bowery. He peered into the large pit that used to be the basement. For the first time in two weeks Gwaine and Morgana even crossed his mind. 

_ Maybe if I can track them down, I could figure out what happened. _

  
  


He ran to  _ the Green Dragon, _ and was happy to see that it still stood in its place. The doors were shut, but Merlin saw movement inside. It was Gaius! Merlin rapped on the window. 

Gaius could not have been happier to see a familiar face, he hobbled over to unlock the gate.

“Merlin, my boy!” He hugged him. It felt nice to be hugged like this. “We had thought you died!” 

“We?” 

“Yes, Morgana lives too. She should be coming around a little later. Please, take a seat.” Gaius started to pour him a drink.

“Oh please, not for me. I’m trying to refrain.” Gaius looked at him.

“You look a bit thin, Merlin. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“I’m fine, Gaius, really.” Merlin flashed him a sad smile, “and you?” 

“I’ve seen better days, but I’m alright, my boy.” Gaius chuckled.

Merlin scratched the counter with his finger nail, trying to articulate what he really wanted to say. 

“So… any word from Arthur?” 

The old man’s face dropped, “I’d hoped he was with you…He was, wasn’t he?”

“He was… um-” Merlin looked down at his hands. He wasn’t sure exactly how much he wanted to tell. “And then, I guess, he wasn’t. Has there been any news at all regarding him? Plans for- for a funeral?” 

“No, not to my knowledge” Gaius replied sadly. “There’s word of a mass burial, but the Pendragon’s wouldn’t allow that for Arthur...” 

The thought of a funeral hadn’t even crossed his mind. He assumed that he was important enough to be keyed in if one were to take place… Although the time since Arthur’s disappearance had certainly outgrown the amount of time between a usual death and service. 

“And how’s Morgana in all this?” Merlin asked.

“Well, you know her. She’s a tough broad. I think she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.”

“Did anyone else make it through?”

“Percival did, I believe. And maybe a few others. The Bowery Boys are in complete disarray, not that I’m complaining. They’ve always brought nothing but violence. I hope, now, that they can settle.”

“Me too.” 

They talked for a bit longer before Morgana knocked on the door. When she caught eyes with Merlin, she beamed. Morgana threw her arms around him the second she could. 

“Oh! I’m so glad you’re alive!” she cried. Merlin wrapped himself in her. 

“What have you been doing with yourself all this time!” Morgana pulled away, smiling at him. 

She also looked like she had crawled through hell. There were dark bags underneath her eyes, some minor bruises and a cut on her chin that would likely never truly fade. She seemed to be less alive, surly as he also seemed to her. 

Merlin didn’t know how to answer her question.

“To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Well,” she glanced over him, likely to make sure he hadn’t lost any limbs. “You’re here now. And where is my brother?”

“I wanted to ask you the same thing.” 

Slowly, the expression in her eyes turned to sadness. “...yes” she said as though the question was completely idotic. Morgana started to blink tears away, when Merlin hugged her again. He could feel her stiffness.

“I’m so sorry... I couldn’t find him.” Merlin choked into her shoulder.

“Right well… you mustn’t blame yourself.” She wiped her eye trying to gain some composure, but her lip quivered and betrayed her as she spoke. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Merlin didn’t stay for much longer after that. Neither one of them had much talk that extended past Arthur, and Merlin certainly didn’t want to lay salt on a fresh wound. She gave him her address, in case he heard anything or ever wanted to pop by. He took it gladly, and hugged her one last time on the way out. 

It felt surreal to see her again. She’d never spoken to Merlin without Arthur's presence being somewhere nearby. It was strange to feel significant to someone you hardly know. But then again, everyone is insignificant until you realize that they absolutely aren’t.

He returned to his home feeling like he had just woken up from a slow moving dream. 

This all  _ was _ real. 

He opened the door to find that he’d left the radio on. It’d totally escaped his mind. He’d kept it on for so many days that it sort of just melted into the background. Merlin didn’t bother to turn it off. 

It was only mid afternoon by the time Merlin returned so he thought he’d spend some time helping out the boys. 

“Merlin, you’re looking paler than usual.” Lancelot said with concern. He had given Merlin a pair of boots to clean, as he sat down to do the same. 

Elyan snorted, “if he were any paler we’d lose him in the snow.”

Merlin smiled. He was genuinely happy to have spoken to Morgana and Gaius, it gave him a bit of closure. 

“I’ve just seen Arthur’s sister.”

“Really? How is she in all of this?” 

“It was hard to tell. No doubt she’s hurting too, or she looks to be.” 

“Well, you were pretty rough for a bit there too.”

Merlin didn’t say anything. He knew it had been rough. He lived it, and he lived it still. It truly felt like everything after that day was some sort of cruel fate awarded by God. Like he was meant to die, but someone, thinking they were doing him a favor, cheated destiny.

_ Everything after is extra, _ Merlin thought.  _ So I have to make it count. _

_ For Arthur. _

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Shoot.” Lance replied.

“What did you mean that day when you told me to ‘wait for him’?” 

Lancelot looked at him for a second. Merlin hoped that he might have had something to do with the note.

“I’m a firm believer that you meet those you love again after death.”

Merlin kept his head down. “Do you have someone waiting for you?”

“Aye.” Lance said with a small smile. Then it grew wider as he smiled to himself entertaining the thought. 

Merlin returned to his apartment that evening. He felt as though waking up that morning had been rewarding for the first time in weeks. He made himself a fine dinner, but nothing too fancy, washed up, and then listened to the radio programs until late in the evening.

He fell asleep a bit sounder. It deeper and dreamless, until it was so rudely interrupted. Merlin awoke suddenly, and lurched forward. There was someone in the hallway, he felt it. Like someone was coming to take him away.

There was a silence outside. He was certain that he heard something. Merlin waited breathlessly. He had long since gotten used to the white noise that came along with the city that never sleeps. The tenants that served as his neighbors weren’t exactly quiet either, but their sounds were different. They were obnoxious and non-deliberate. Either way, Merlin was at the end of the hall, and there was no reason to come this far without seeing to his door. 

No, the sounds outside Merlin’s flat were hushed and unsure, as though the maker was treading on little known ground. If this stranger had come to kill him, he was too late, for Merlin had nothing left to fear and no one left to mourn. 

He was ready to join his loved one. 

Still, he grasped the knife that lived under the cushions. If they were here to steal him away, Merlin would not be taken alive.

He remembered having locked the door behind him the second he walked in, but Cenred’s men had their ways of clawing through.

  
  


There was a short clacking of the keyhole, and then the knob turned. 

He pretended to be asleep. If his visitor killed him swiftly, all would be well, but if he attempted anything but, he would be sliced.

The door opened and closed in one motion. All was dark.

He felt someone creep slowly over him. Almost simultaneously, a hand pinned Merlin’s wrist to the couch and another slipped over his lips. The knife fell out of his hand. 

“Shhh.”

Merlin squinted to see, but the light was too dim. It didn’t matter. He knew this was it. 

  
  
  


The hand from his wrist removed itself to push a few strands of long black hair out of Merlin’s face. His heart raced in his chest. 

“I would’ve kissed you when I came in, but I know you keep a knife under the couch.” Arthur whispered.

Merlin could hear him smiling. He leapt up and embraced him. He felt his eyes sting and his throat clench. It was  _ him _ . It must be.

Arthur laughed, “Cenred’s men gave me a hard time, but you would’ve done me in.” His movement was limited due to the sling around his arm, but he wrapped him as well as he could. 

Merlin could hardly summon words on his tongue.

“You’re not here...” he squeaked.

He didn’t loosen his grip for a single second. 

“I am here.” 

His knuckles turned white with the strain, but he didn’t notice.

“You left.” 

Arthur buried his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck. Inhaling his scent for the first time in ages.

“I had to.” He wanted to explain that it was important that Merlin went on without him, but now was neither the time nor the place.

Merlin loosened his grip and looked upon the blond’s face. His eyesight was hazy through darkness and tears. 

“I mourned you.” 

Arthur thumbed Merlin’s cheek but Merlin pushed it away. This was not a joyous reunion. He was angry. 

“I know. I’m sorry. Any questions you might have I will answer...” 

Merlin nodded.

“But first, we must leave this place.“

“What?”

“I can’t stay here… and I don’t see any sort of life worth living without you, so I want to ask if you’d join me.”

Merlin got up. He went to turn on the lamp so that they could have a conversation face to face. 

“No, don’t turn on the light.”

“Why not?”

Arthur paused, looking at him in the dark. 

“Merlin, are you aware that there has been a man on your street just about every night watching your window? They have not forgotten you. They will not.”  The thought was terrifying. He never wanted to revisit the events that happened that day, having been stolen from (what he thought was) the safety of his home. Being battered and bruised and thrown to the feet of his lover with whom he was destined to die.

“How do you know this?” 

Arthur smirked, “I have not forgotten you either.”

Merlin could hardly help but gawk at Arthur’s insinuation that he, too, had been watching over him.

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

Arthur’s smile faded. “I have my reasons,” He stated with a certain firmness. “All of which we can discuss on the train.” Merlin had not felt that side of Arthur long since before the riot. The steady anger that pointed its focussed gaze at whatever poor soul he was speaking to. 

Merlin didn’t know what he should do.

“I’ve made friends here.”

“I know. He’s waiting for us downstairs.”

It was completely infuriating that Arthur seemed to treat Merlin’s life like a book that he just pick up and put down whenever he wanted. 

Arthur moved in closer to him.

“I need an answer.” 

Merlin looked at him, what he could see of him. Inches away, he could see that ridiculously european face a little clearer. 

With a gentle hand, he touched Arthur’s face, and was confused to find the skin on his cheek and jaw was mangled. It was only then that Merlin remembered,  _ really _ remembered, what his body worked so hard to forget.

That day, they were so close to death. It had kissed Arthur and yet, somehow he still managed to evade it. It reminded Merlin that no one comes away fully intact from a fight like that. 

And Arthur understood what Merlin was staring at. He tenderly pulled away the hand that caressed him. The touch that he loved so much. And he’d missed it. 

They didn’t look away from each other for a second. He couldn't imagine the pain the man endured. The whole of it. Arthur's life seemed tragic from the start, what little he knew of it.  Merlin grasped for Arthur’s hand and entwined their fingers together.

“Where are we going?” Merlin whispered. 

Arthur flashed a grateful smile, knowing that Merlin understood and accepted the great favor that he was asking of him.

  
  


Merlin threw a few things together in a suitcase, and figured the landlord could take care of the rest. Sure enough, the two were met by Lancelot in the small lobby. Merlin grinned to see him, and Lance did the same. 

“How did you…” Merlin started.

“I’ll let Arthur tell you that much.” 

“It’s always something with you two. You never cease to amaze me.”

The three of them boarded the coach that was waiting for them near the back exit. 

_ So ‘wait for him’ was a message then.  _

Lancelot and Arthur were having a lively conversation, talking of their childhood together or something of the sort. In all honesty, Merlin was not listening. He could not help but stare in wonder at the man he thought to be dead. The man he loved. 

The tenor of the voice that he’d heard so often in his dreams was sitting right in front of him. As the carriage carried them along, the shadows of the street lamps pulled across Arthur’s face, and left it again to darkness. Merlin thought each passing light might pull Arthur along with the shadows and suddenly he would wake up alone in his too-quiet apartment with the radio jabbering nonstop.

At one moment Arthur turned to look at Merlin, just to make sure he was still there.

And he was. 

He was always there. 

  
  



	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooow thanks for sticking through this. Y'all just read fifty pages of gay speculation! Hope you liked it.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment !!! I love hearing from you

The breeze blew soft and warm under the clear night sky. Street lamps illuminated near empty streets. When he stepped out of the carriage, the air greeted Merlin with a sort of nostalgic feeling. 

Lancelot handed him his address, but deep down Merin knew that he would never see him again.

“Thank you…” Merlin whispered. His happiness was boundless, he couldn’t help but let it leak through his face. His smile was dazzling, although he was sad to leave the friend he’d only so recently made. “...I owe you everything.”

Lancelot patted him on the shoulder, and Merlin pulled him into a hug as a response.

“Thank you.” He said again. 

“It was the least I could do.” Lance smiled.

Arthur stood back, happily watching his lover’s face and knowing that they could spend the rest of their lives together.

Merlin watched Lance leave until he couldn’t see him any longer. There was a pain in his heart. This man had picked up the pieces of his life after it had all shattered. And now he left too. The sun was starting to peak out from between the buildings on the skyline. 

Merlin felt fingers intertwine with his. Arthur was standing very close to him also looking off to Lancelot’s path. He then turned his head to smile at Merlin. In this moment, it was like nothing else ever existed to Arthur.

During his time away, he had had a lot of time to think. Actually, that was just about all he could do. In fact, he had just pissed away three weeks of his life lying on his back. The woman tending to him would have called it “letting wounds heal,” but of course, he was itching to go anywhere. Truth be told, originally, his plans for the future didn’t include Merlin. It was easier to protect him if he thought Arthur was dead. Surely if his lover thought him dead, Cenred would too. And as much as it pained him, he knew this was the right way.

He was going to do the right thing _for once_ in his life.

He’d been _so selfish. Even now._

Arthur did what was in his interest, always. He wanted to do right by Merlin; let him grieve.

But of course all of that went to shit when he heard of Cenred’s plans to finish what he started. And he could spend all night trying to justify why he told Lance to send Merlin some hope. He knew it would throw a wrench in the process.

“Hey,” Merlin said, touching his cheek. “Don’t go stiff on me again…”

Arthur looked at him with pain in his eyes. He looked like he was going to cry. It was then that Arthur saw the true error of his ways. He felt his legs shake. Merlin cradled the blond’s head as they sank to the floor of the platform. He was careful not to touch his mending arm. 

“I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Sealed your fate hardly even asking if it was what you wanted.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t absolutely want to.”

Arthur was not the viciously strong man that Merlin had first met. They talked for a little while until the train arrived. Arthur spoke of his countless hours wondering how Merlin was doing or if he’d ever see him again. He thought of his father and how he’d likely be disappointed in his efforts. Arthur became at peace with this sentiment. He was not his father, nor did he share all of his father’s values. He could wallow in self-pity or he could choose to do what was right from here on out. He spoke of Morgana and was elated to hear of her survival.

He couldn’t express to Merlin how sorry he was that he needed to be dead to everyone around him, but he did try. Merlin had already forgiven him. He’d forgiven him ages ago.

They boarded the train in silence, and they sat in their compartment in silence, but it was a warm sort of quiet. As though they were simply basking in each others’ company after all had been said. After an hour of staring out the window, Arthur had fallen asleep. No doubt, to soothe the night previous and all other sleepless nights he had recently endured.

His face bathed in full light and Merlin, sitting across from him, he could now see the extent of the damage done. The skin on his cheek was rolled in burn scars. Webs of skin splayed across this side of his face. They were only about as deep as acne scars, but still very visible. It would be a painful reminder for as long as he lived.

Sure, Arthur wasn’t the cold, calculating man he was. Looking at him in that moment, Merlin knew he was more at peace than he had ever been.

A few hours later, they stepped off the train. Their legs were sore, and they hadn’t eaten in what felt like days, but they were happy to be far away from that godforsaken place. Finally, they arrived at a small townhouse just west of Boston.

“Is this it?” Merlin said, gleaming. It was beautiful. It had a red brick face and a black accent near the top. 

“Wait till you see the inside.” Arthur smiled. “C’mon.”

Merlin was not quite done drinking in the exterior, but he followed. He gaped when he stepped through the door. He’d never known luxury like this. It was no mansion, there was only one bedroom, but ornaments seemingly lined the walls and all sorts of little curios had already found their permanent spots

“What do you think?” Arthur said with his snaggle tooth grin. Merlin wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that color on a wall. It was pretentious and all his. 

Arthur plopped himself onto a dark leather lounge sofa in the living room. The living room! A home with more than one room! 

Merlin found himself towering over Arthur, who looked up at him with a glint in his eye. Merlin wasted no time to bend down and kiss him. He’d refrained himself so far. 

And suddenly the memories of Merlin flooded Arthur’s senses. The way his hair smelled, and his tongue tasted. He certainly had come home.

Arthur couldn’t help but smile against his lover’s lips.

“Mmm” Arthur hummed.

Merlin kissed him harder wrapping his arms around the blond’s broad shoulders. He expertly moved himself down to straddle him

“I’ve missed that,” he mused.

“What?” Arthur whispered between breaths.

Merlin raked his fingers down Arthur’s back and down his thighs. Arthur couldn’t help but utter a low moan. 

_“Fuck.”_

Arthur had often kept himself awake at night with one hand wrapped snugly around his cock, and his mind’s eye only on Merlin. He just had that effect on him, he always had. The second their eyes met at that bar.

“I love it when you purr for me.” Merlin’s fingers drifted down, caressing the fabric on Arthur’s groin. His eyes were glued to Arthur’s face, which was slack with pleasure. 

It really amazed him how inexperienced the blond was. Or, rather- inexperienced he was with someone working towards his pleasure. And lord, how he loved watching him writhe with arousal under his touch. 

Arthur started to paw at Merlin’s shirt, which he then slipped out of in one quick motion. 

“I always knew you would be trouble.” Arthur grunted, taking his turn to run his fingers over Merlin’s body, catching his thumb on that silver chain.

“Yeah?” Merlin’s lips tugged into a mischievous smile. He undid the buttons on Arthur’s shirt. The novelty of the blond’s presence had not worn off on him yet, despite having spent nearly twelve hours with him already. Part of Merlin wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t disappear out from under him like some sort of mirage, or hopeful figment of imagination.

“The second I saw you, I _\- Fuck -_ I knew it.”

This was remarkably similar to what Merlin told himself about his first meeting of Arthur. He chalked it all up to fate. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he and Arthur were destined to be together. 

He soothed Arthur, and Arthur made him stronger. You couldn’t find a better symbiotic relationship in the wild. They were like two sides of the same coin. 

  
  


“C’mon Trouble, let’s go break in the bed.” 

  
  


Merlin beamed at his new nickname and smiled as he took Arthur by the hand and the two bounded for the stairs. 

  
  


And he knew that he was home.

  
  



End file.
